


Love and Drugs

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, T for drug use that's all, anyway, it's super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose quickly falls for a girl she only just met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Drugs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fanficstuck :)

You knew a lot of people did drugs in college, but you were also fairly sure that wouldn’t be you. You’d always valued your intellect and vaguely aloof demeanour – neither of which went particularly well with drug use. But that was then: this is now, and a lot can change in three years. Like realising that nothing really matters as long as you’re happy, and that drugs are an excellent way to achieve happiness. Sure, your brother doesn’t approve, but as far as you’re concerned, he can go suck a dick. Actually, you’re fairly certain he actually does, on a relatively regular basis, but that’s his business. Just like your drug use is yours. Besides, it’s not even that bad. You can totally quit whenever you want to.

 

You’re hanging out behind the library, skiving what is probably an important lecture and sharing a joint with Meulin and Damara, when you see her. She’s tall and fashionably dressed, with a short, sharp haircut and an interested expression.

“Hey,” you say, waving at her, and she looks around for someone else before realising you’re talking to her, “Want some?”

She hesitates, then walks over to you and sits cross-legged on the grass, resting her hands on her knees.

“I’ve never tried it before,” she says, cautiously taking the joint you pass her.

“It’s good shit,” you say, grinning in what you hope is an encouraging way, and she takes a cautious drag, before doubling over coughing.

“I don’t think I like it,” she says, handing it back to you and coughing again.

“’Sokay,” you say, nodding understandingly, “Hey, we should hang out some time.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding a little taken aback, “Well, all right. If you want to.”

Damara says something crude – although you don’t quite catch what – in that thick accent of hers, and Meulin laughs loudly.

 

You decide to meet up outside the library the next day – a Saturday – and she leaves before you can find out her name. You lie back in the grass, a poppy love song running through your head, and think about romance. You’re too high to even consider the possibility that she doesn’t like you, too.

 

You’re only a few minutes late to meet her, and she doesn’t seem to mind. You’re thinking clearly enough to ask her name, and tell her that Kanaya is a lovely name. She asks you if you’re Rose Lalonde.

“Yes,” you say, surprised, “How did you know my name?”

“I read an article you wrote last year,” she says, smiling, “It was good.”

“Oh,” you say, laughing, “I haven’t written like that in a while.”

She nods, and you think she knows the words you mentally added: not since I started smoking pot.

“You should. You’re a great writer.”

“You think so?”

You’re blushing a little, but you hope she won’t notice.

“Yes.”

You stand in silence for a moment, wondering what to say next.

“So, what shall we do?” she asks, looking at you expectantly.

“Uh... we could hang out at my place?”

Neither of you can come up with anything better, so that’s what you end up doing. The walk there is quiet, but not awkward. You enjoy the warmth of summer in silence, and only a small part of your mind is panicking about Kanaya.

 

Your apartment is small and cluttered, but homely – although the most noticeable thing in it is the bong on the coffee table, which Kanaya raises her eyebrows at.

“You want to try it?” you ask, smiling reassuringly, “It won’t make you cough.”

She hesitates, but agrees. She watches you intently as you set it up, clearly interested, so you show her how everything works. Her curiosity seems to be mostly intellectual, but she’s almost eager to try it. You have to admit, you really want to see her high.

 

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both floating somewhere in the ionosphere, metaphorically speaking – that is to say, considerably higher than kites. You’ve been giggling about Kanaya’s thumbs for several minutes. You’re not even really sure why.

“Hey,” she says, interrupting your giggles, “Hey. Have you got any food?”

“Mm? Maybe. Man... I’m starving,” you say, and for some reason that sets you off giggling again.

“Yes, but, have you got food?” she asks persistently, and you shrug.

“I think there’s Doritos,” you say, slowly getting up and walking to the kitchen, where, sure enough, you find a bag of Doritos.

You return, waving it triumphantly, and Kanaya claps, grinning. You open the bag, and both of you start wolfing them down, orange dust staining your cheeks and fingers. Then you get the idea to throw fragments into each others’ mouths, which has both of you giggling and crumbs littering the sofa cushions. More of the Doritos end up on the sofa than in your mouths, but you don’t care. You’re having the most fun you’ve had in a while. Who says drugs are a bad thing?

 

When the Doritos are gone, you lie down, your head resting in Kanaya’s lap, and smile up at her. More of your attention than would be usual is directed towards looking up her nostrils. You find them oddly fascinating.

“Hey,” you say, out of nowhere, pushing yourself up so you’re sitting, slightly angled towards Kanaya, “What if I kissed you? Right now?”

“Huh?” she asks, tilting her head and looking confused.

“What would you think?”

“I guess... I think I’d like it,” she says, looking thoughtful, “But I’m not sure.”

“Oh.”

You look away from her, feeling a little less happy.

“Maybe we should try,” she suggests, and you turn back to her with a smile.

“Okay,” you say, a little too quickly.

You hesitate a moment, then lean in and kiss her. It’s quick and clumsy, and your lips feel too dry as they brush against hers, but she smiles as you pull away, and she doesn’t need to tell you she liked it.

“I think,” she says, slowly, “We should try it again.”

You nod thoughtfully before leaning back in to kiss her again, parting your lips slightly, then giggling when she pulls away and plants a quick kiss on the tip of your nose.

“What time is it?” she asks suddenly, her expression changing completely as she scans the room for a clock.

“Uh,” you say, checking your watch, “Half three.”

“Oh, damn. I’m late,” she says, getting up and heading for the door.

“What for?” you ask from the sofa.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” she asks, looking up from pulling her shoes on, and you nod.

“Come here at twelve?”

“Okay,” she says, grinning at you quickly before leaving.

You sit smiling at the closed door for at least a minute, feeling warm and happy in a way that has nothing to do with drugs and everything to do with Kanaya.

 

The next morning, she arrives ten minutes early, but you were ready for her at eleven. You thought about getting high before she got there – just to relax a little – but you decide against it. Best to make a good impression.

“Hello,” she says, smiling cautiously as you open the door.

“Hey,” you say, letting her in and trying not to let your nerves show.

You follow her over to the sofa, and sit next to her, staring at your hands, which are folded in your lap, and resisting the urge to fiddle with them.

“So, uh,” she says, and you force yourself to look up at her, “What shall we do?”

“Get high?” you suggest, and she wrinkles her nose.

“Not today,” she says, shaking her head, “I don’t really like it.”

“Okay.”

You shrug, then fall back into awkward silence.

“I like you better when you’re not high,” she says, so softly you barely hear her.

“Most people wouldn’t agree,” you reply, equally softly.

“Then they’re wrong.”

She says it so matter-of-factly you have to laugh.

“My brother would agree with you there,” you say, grinning ruefully.

“Maybe you should listen to him.”

You shrug, and sit in silence for a moment.

“So,” she says eventually, “I’m not sure about the drugs, but there was at least one good thing about yesterday.”

“Oh?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Kissing you,” she says, her face turning pink.

“Oh!”

You blush a little as well, looking away and then back again, not sure what to do next. She seems determined not to look at you, so you lift your hand and turn her face gently towards you, then lean in and kiss her softly. Her reaction is almost instantaneous. Her lips part and you can feel her relaxing. You pull away, smiling, and she smiles back at you, and for just one perfect, shining moment, you feel absolutely content.

“Hey,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper and your forehead resting against hers, “Be my girlfriend?”

“Okay,” she says, smiling and kissing the tip of your nose.

You try – and nearly manage – to stop the laughter bubbling up inside you from bursting out, but you can’t. She gives you a quizzical look, then starts laughing too. It’s a while before either of you can stop.

“So, any plans for today?” she asks, finally managing to keep a straight face.

“Hang out here?” you suggest, and she shrugs, smiling widely.

You can’t think of anything more fun than hanging out with Kanaya in your apartment, so you stay there, sitting on the sofa and feeling happier than you ever have.

 

An hour later, you’re lying on the sofa, draped across Kanaya’s lap and watching an old movie.

“You’re really comfortable,” you say, shifting so your head rests against her shoulder and grinning.

“No, I’m not,” she says, “You’re comfortable. I’m being squashed.”

“Deal with it.”

She laughs, and you push yourself up so you can kiss her.

“Ow,” she says, as you push down on her thigh with most of your weight.

“Sorry.”

You shift your hand and fall, ending up lying across her lap. Exasperated, you blow your hair out of your face, making her laugh.

“Here,” she says, sliding her legs out from beneath you and shifting so she’s lying down, facing you, “Better.”

You giggle, then kiss her – a short, sharp peck which lands more on her chin than her mouth.

“This is nice,” she says, wrapping her arm around your waist and kissing the tip of your nose.

“It is,” you agree, and you think if you had to choose between Kanaya and weed, Kanaya would win every time.

“We should do this every day.”

“Every day,” you repeat, and you make it sound like a promise.

“Instead of drugs?” she says, making it a question, and her face looks so hopeful you couldn’t tell her no.

“Instead of drugs,” you agree, and you think, with Kanaya, it’s not a difficult promise to make.

She smiles, and kisses you on the nose, and you can feel your heart glowing inside you – even though that sounds completely ridiculous.

“My brother would like you,” you say, smiling.

“Good.”

You laugh and kiss her, and she kisses you back, and you wrap your arms around each other and stay like that all afternoon. You fall asleep in her arms, and wake up to a dark room and the television quietly playing some old soap and cold air and a warm body next to yours. Kanaya is still asleep, her breathing quiet and steady, and you feel so happy and sleepy, you could stay like that forever. But it’s late and Kanaya has a home of her own to go to, however much you might want her to stay, so you wake her up and tell her it’s night now, and you think she’s so lovely like this, sleepy and befuddled. You promise to see each other tomorrow, and she leaves.

 

It takes a long time to fall asleep without her.  


End file.
